Slipping Sand
by pinksugarrush
Summary: Pony wasn't really sure what was wrong with him. The gang was complaining that his head was in the clouds more often and when he thought about it, there were gaps in his memory. To be absolutely honest, he wouldn't have thought anything was wrong with him and neither did the gang...until he started having seizures.
1. Chapter 1 Gaps Within

Disclaimer- I do not own The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton does. Enjoy!

Chapter 1. _Gaps Within_

"Mr. Curtis!"

Ponyboy immediately jumped at his name and could already feel the heat crawling up his face as the peers around him started to laugh.

"Yes?" he tried to keep his voice composed, but he could hear the embarrassment in his own voice, which only made the heat in his face worse.

"What's the answer?" Mrs. Trill all but demanded, her manicured fingers tapping testily against her crossed forearms. She already knew that he didn't know, so why even bother? Sometimes Ponyboy liked to believe that teachers just like to indulge in shaming their students.

"I-I don't know, Mrs. Trill." He answered meekly as another round of students started to laugh.

"Then it would be best that you pay attention, Mr. Curtis." Ponyboy nodded mutely as he shrank a little deeper into his seat. Mrs. Trill immediately settled the class with a slap of the ruler against the whiteboard, though some snickers still persisted.

This was the third teacher in the past two weeks that scolded him for slipping off into the clouds. He better get his head screwed on more tightly before they decide to report this to Darry. He sighed silently as the attention was shifted away from him and back to Mrs. Trill as she continued on with lecture with an extra bounce of authority in her voice.

A few of the snickering socs were eyeing him while making cut throat motions with their fingers. He tried to ignore them the best he could, but it was hard when they were sitting so close and throwing spitballs at him.

Pony propped his textbook up vertically to avoid everybody's gaze for the rest of the period.

* * *

"You sure are taking a lot of those lately."

Ponyboy jumped at the voice. It seems like he's been jumping a lot lately. He turned to Soda who was now fully leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hey, Soda. I didn't hear you come home."

"Hmm," Soda's nodded toward Pony's hand. Pony stared down at his own palm and immediately closed his palm around the aspirin, almost as if Soda couldn't see it, then he would forget about it. "Didn't you take some this morning?"

"It's nothing, Soda." Pony assured. Soda passed him his glass of water as Pony took the aspirin. "And I only took one this morning."

"You not getting sick, are you?" Soda reached out to feel his forehead, but Pony evaded the intruding hand.

"I'm fine, Soda." he sighed. "I've been working on this project for school and it's stressing me out a bit."

Soda frowned slightly at that. "So you take aspirin?"

"I get headaches."

"I don't remember you getting so many headaches from school before."

Pony smiled as he filled up his glass with more water. "That was before I had Mrs. Trill for Biology."

Soda laughed as he ruffled Pony's hair fondly. "I think I heard of her before. Maybe I should pay her a visit and charm her up. The ladies love me, you know."

Before Pony could say anything, the front door ricochets open with a fuming Steve yelling for Soda and saying how the new employee at the DX, Eric apparently, had screwed up big time on somebody's car. Soda left him to go to the living room where Steve was complaining about how he had to clean up Eric's mess and how idiotic their boss was.

Pony watched them for a moment, before turning back to the kitchen.

He made sure that Soda's attention was occupied, before he shook out three more aspirins and swallowed them dry.

Rubbing his head, Pony went to rest in bed before dinner started. He collapsed onto the creaky, old bed with a sigh. He practically finished his project two weeks ago, and was now in the stages of just reviewing it and setting in the final touches, and yet his headaches still persisted.

Pony squinted his eyes as his vision blurred for a second.

Was it him or were his headaches getting worse?

* * *

"Shit, you're bleeding real bad, kid." Pony blinked owlishly at Two-Bit as Two-Bit turned to Steve who was staring at him hard. "Steve, you got a handkerchief?"

"What?" Pony looked around and noted that he was in the school bathroom. When did he get here? His head felt fuzzy as if he just woke up from an overdue nap.

Steve produced an old rag from his back pocket that Pony seen Steve use a lot at the DX. Instead of offering it to Two-Bit, he came forth and pressed it directly on Pony's forehead himself. Pony immediately winced and tried to pull back, but Steve kept on pressing.

"Hold still, kid," Steve demanded gruffly.

"You don't have to be so rough with him," Two-Bit scolded lightly as he took a few step closers to look. "Is it getting better?"

Steve just shrugged.

"What are you two doing?" Pony reached up to try to push Steve's arm away, but Two-Bit stopped him with a hold on his wrist.

"What do you think, smartass?" Steve took the rag away to see if the bleeding had lightened up some.

Pony's arm shot out quickly as he caught sight of the now stained rag. Steve looked surprised at the sudden quick movement and stopped. Pony held the rag in his hand deftly and touched the red wetness. The copper scent that filled his nose made him want to gag.

"Is that blood? _My_ blood?" he squeezed the rag, and felt some of the blood run down his arms. "What happened?"

Steve and Two-Bit suddenly looked worried.

"That's not funny, kid." Steve's voice sounded angry, but his eyes looked scared. Steve carefully took the rag back and suddenly looked unsure as to whether to keep on pressing the wound. Instead, he just stared which unnerved Pony.

"They must have banged your head harder than we thought," Two-Bit took another step closer and grabbed his arm. His other arm reached out to touch Pony's head but seemed to think better of it and left it to drift awkwardly at Pony's side. "You didn't get a concussion did you?"

"Concussion?" Pony rubbed his head, trying hard to remember what happened. He could have sworn he was at his locker packing his books to take home and then...blank, emptiness, that's it. He couldn't remember anything after that.

Two-Bit turned to Steve who was now washing the bloody rag in the sink. "Should we take him to the hospital?"

Steve rubbed his face tiredly. "It didn't seem like they banged his head hard enough for a concussion, but," Steve's eyes slid over to Pony who was still looking confused. "Do you feel off or anything, kid?"

"No, I'm fine,"

"Do you feel like you're going to vomit? Or does your head hurt real bad?" Two-Bit jumped in.

"I'm good." Pony shook his head as he moved toward the bathroom mirror and looked at himself.

"Do you really not remember what happened? None of it?"

Pony ignored the question, and studied himself instead. The corner of his forehead had two nice cuts running across it. Pony had enough experience with bullying socs to recognize a head-bashing-to-locker wound when he saw one. Considering his last memory was one that involved him being at a locker, he decided to venture a guess. "They hit my head against a locker?"

Based on the visibly relieved expression on Steve and Two-Bit's face, he assumed he guessed right. They were apparently so relieved at the thought that he had remembered the events that transpired that they didn't notice that he had phrased it as a question instead of a statement. But Pony didn't want to correct them at the fear of having to go to the hospital.

"Golly, you scared me there, Pone," Two-Bit was back to all smiles now. Two-Bit took the rag out of Steve's limp grip and proceeded to wring out the water from the rag and gently dabbed it against the younger's still bleeding forehead. "Thought they messed up your head really bad for a sec."

"Do you remember who did it?" Steve asked, still somewhat suspicious while his eyes studied Pony intently.

He didn't. Of course, he didn't. He couldn't even remember the event much less who did it. But they didn't need to know that.

Somewhat snarkily, he said, "I was kind of too busy holding my bleeding head to notice."

Two-Bit laughed good naturedly, while Steve snorted but he could see a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as the tenseness in his shoulders disappeared.

"Whatever, kid." Deciding that if Pony was well enough to be smart with him, then he should be fine. "We beat their faces in for you." and just because he wanted to return the snarkiness, he added, "You're welcome."

Two-Bit grinned at that. "We sure did. They sure as hell won't be messing with you anymore." Two-Bit showed him his slightly red knuckles as if it was a trophy to be admired. "Gave one of them a bloody nose."

"Thanks." Pony smiled slightly at that.

After spending another ten minutes in the restroom, Two-Bit grabbed his arm and guided him to Steve's car since he kept on stumbling.

All the way home, they joked on how Socs were probably going to be too embarrassed to come to school tomorrow and how Darry and Soda are going to have a fit once they caught sight of Pony's new shiner.

But under all those smiles, Pony couldn't help, but worry why he couldn't seem to remember the whole event.

Then again, it was normal to have gaps in one's memory every now and then, especially when you bang your head against a locker, right?

* * *

"What the hell happened to him?" There was a hand in his hair for a few seconds before it lifted away. Pony scrunched his eyes tighter, trying to block out all the voices.

He was so tired.

"What does it look like?" Steve asked as he popped his knuckles and looked toward the kitchen. "Two-Bit get me a beer too."

There was a distracted grunt from the kitchen and the sound of the fridge opening.

"Looks like the kid got his head slammed."

"Well, there's your answer."

"Darry should just home school the kid." Dally snorted lowly as he threw himself in Darry's chair and inclined it as far back as he could. After a moment, he said in a somewhat offhanded manner, "Who did it?"

Steve shrugged. "We took care of it already."

Dally nodded curtly at that and eyed Pony's sleeping figure. "How long has he been out?"

Two-Bit came into the living room and threw a beer at Steve and Dally before settling down on the floor with a chocolate cake. Two-Bit leaned his back against the bottom of the couch. "He fell asleep after an hour from getting home." Two-Bit looked at the clock. "So, uh, hour and half already. He seemed okay, no concussion."

Dally swung around his chair and kicked the base of the couch that Pony was sleeping on.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, but neither Two-Bit or him moved to stop the action.

"Checking to make sure he's alive." Dally did another hard kick. "Shit, kid, wake up."

Pony groaned groggily and swatted blindly at Dally's kicking feet. "What?"

Dally must have been satisfied with the verbal response. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Pony shifted around the couch as Dally threw a blanket that was on the floor haphazardly on him. It landed on his head with a soft thump.

Pony groped at the blanket mindlessly and tried to straighten it along himself without much success. Two-Bit sighed before leaning over and rearranging the blanket along Pony's body and gave him a pat on the leg when he was done.

Pony was starting to drift off again when he heard Two-Bit's voice come out in a hush undertone. "The kid scared me earlier."

"Yeah?" Dally guzzled his beer before tipping it back to get to last remnants. "What did he do?"

"He said he couldn't remember what happened."

Pony unconsciously fisted the blanket closer to his chest, but none of them seemed to have noticed the action. He was still bothered by that.

Steve snorted. "He was just messing with us, Two-Bit."

He wasn't.

"Pony doesn't mess around like that." Two-Bit frowned slightly and pointedly looked at Steve. "You looked pretty worried yourself."

Steve almost sounded affronted. "I was not."

Two-Bit snorted at that.

"Shut up," Dally said nonchalantly. "He got his damn head on straight now so who cares."

But he didn't…

And that scared him.

* * *

A/N: Hi, guys! Long time, right? To those of you who know me, sorry for being out of the writing world for so long. And I bet some of you are like, "She didn't even finish her other fics and she's starting another one. The audacity!" Haha. I know, and I'm really sorry about that. Life has just been kind of tough. If it's any comfort, I have not given up on any of my stories – they're my babies (at least until I do decide to give up on them). ^^

Anyway, I just kind of had this idea floating around in my head for like the past two weeks and I thought "Whatever. Let's just write it and see what happens."

I haven't written in so long. My writing is so rusty and it took me a lot longer than it used to. I usually like my chapters at least 3000 words, but I just couldn't manage this time. So I'm sorry for the short chapter, guys.

I'm also still deciding on whether or not Pony is going to die in this fic or not. What do you think?

What do you think? You like? You hate? Want to vomit?

Anyway, please R&R. Reviews inspire me and make me happy. No flames, please. Constructive criticism is welcomed.

7.2.17


	2. Chapter 2 Yearning for a Muted World

Chapter 2. _Yearning for a Muted World_

He was the first one up and figured that he might as well make use of it by cooking.

The only sounds were the sizzling of the eggs and Two-Bit's soft snoring from the couch. Two-Bit had been too drunk last night to even drive lopsided, which was a record even for him. Darry, being the responsible one, hid Two-Bit's keys in Two-Bit's own shoe.

Pony smiled softly as he listlessly moved the spoon amongst the scrambled eggs as he thought about himself bleeding in the bathroom with Steve and Two-Bit standing close to him, checking his wound.

The wound that he still didn't have a lick of memory of even obtaining.

It had happened over a week ago, and he hardly thought about it. But when the days were quiet and the ambiance just right, that moment would filter its way into him. And he would find himself unconsciously slipping back to it. Just like how he was now.

Even though he kept on brushing it off, there was a deep seated instinct in him that told him that something just wasn't right. It kept gnawing at the back of his mind, and sometimes he just wished that it would gnaw that part of his brain off so he could stop thinking about it once and for all.

He turned off the stove with a click.

Why didn't he remember any of it?

Shouldn't he have at least remembered the name calling and the teasing that always took place before the socs decide to bash him a good one?

Did he black out?

But if he blacked out, Steve and Two-Bit would have noticed, right? Surely, they would have noticed if he fell unconscious or something of that sort. It was hard to miss someone falling flat on their face.

Pony started to mindlessly scrape the eggs off the bottom of the pan. Some of the eggs were starting to stick. Damn old frying pan and its adhesive bottom.

Or maybe there was no mouthy soc's fanfare that time and they just went straight up to his unexpectant form and slammed his head in. Maybe they decided to pass up on molding the climatic fear this time. But that pretty much took out all of the fun, didn't it? But he wouldn't put it pass some socs, they liked to play dirty. Perhaps he did black out temporarily and by the time Steve and Two-Bit had gotten there, he was awake, but just too disoriented to get his bearing straight until he was shuffled into the bathroom.

Pony reached for some dishes on the top cabinet and slowly started to arrange them around the table.

That must be it.

It had to be.

It was the only thing that made sense.

There was nothing wrong with -

 _Clash._

Pony jumped back with a start while Two-Bit gave a surprised snort from the couch before promptly falling off the couch with a thud and a groan.

Before he could think about getting anything for the shattered mess, Two-Bit came running in from the living room while a shirtless Darry came pounding in from his room. The sound had effectively woken up two of the three sleeping occupants.

"What happened?" Darry blurted out as he looked Pony over. "Are you okay?"

"What the hell was that?" Two-Bit asked before he saw the shattered dishes and then he just grinned. "Oh, nevermind."

"Sorry," Pony apologized sheepishly. He had accidentally dropped three dishes all at once. "I was putting the dishes on the table. I guess I misjudged the distance or something."

Two-Bit laughed as he put an arm around Pony's shoulder and teased him. "Pony, how did you miss the table? It's like right there. No wonder why you're on track and not basketball. Your aim sucks."

Darry gave an aggravated sigh as he took in the sight of the mess. He would have to buy new dishes with their already tight budget now. He was tired enough since he had picked up extra shifts at work, hoping those extra shifts would give him more leeway for next month's bills. Now that hope was shattered, just like the dishes.

"Ponyboy, you need to start paying attention to what you're doing and get your heads out of the clouds." Darry snapped somewhat harshly.

Pony shrank into Two-Bit's hold and Two-Bit's smile somewhat fell. At that moment, Pony kind of wished that the noise had woken up Soda. Soda always knew how to calm Darry down. Pony, well, Pony just only seemed to know how to anger him.

"Sorry," Pony mumbled again, his eyes opting to stare at the shattered mess rather than Darry's frustrated face. He'd seen Darry's annoyed face enough to know it by heart now anyway.

"Then get your head on straight." Darry looked at the clock before shaking his head. "I got to get ready for work. Clean this mess up, Ponyboy."

Pony nodded as he started to sulkily get the broom from the low cabinet.

"Don't mind Darry too much. He's just stressed." Two-Bit gave Pony a reassuring pat after the bathroom door shut and the water started to run. Pony just nodded mutely. He already heard that before. "Hey, it's okay, Pone, I got a lot dishes at my house. I'll bring some over."

"You sure?"

Two-Bit gave him an easy grin. "Sure, I'm sure. Heck, I eat here more than I eat at my own home sometimes. My mama says I might as well move in here."

Pony gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Two-Bit, you're a real pal."

Two-Bit waved it off. "I better wake up Soda before Darry tries to skin him with the mood he's in."

Two-Bit walked off as Pony finished the sweeping.

As he placed the broom away, he hissed and bit back a moan as his felt a stray piece of glass embed itself into his foot. At least it was his foot and not Darry's. Darry would have had a real fit and would have complained that Pony was once again not being careful or, in this case, thorough.

"Great," Pony mumbled as he hobbled over to the trashcan. He sucked in a breath as he pulled the glass free without a second of hesitation. "Stupid glass."

Pony sighed as he chucked the glass into the trashcan.

His fingers were now stained red from the blood and his foot was throbbing and slowly painting itself red. The blood was starting to collect at the end of his foot, and drip steadily into the trashcan. He was making his own little, red ocean in that smelly trashcan.

Red.

It reminded him of Steve's bloody DX rag.

And that only reminded him of those annoying socs and his memory blank.

He didn't want to think about it.

He hated it.

Aggravated, Ponyboy shut the trashcan lid solidly.

His foot hurt.

But it was okay.

His foot was okay.

And _he_ was okay.

He just had to be.

* * *

"That's total horse shit, Soda!" Steve flung his cards at Soda as Soda cackled madly and called Steve a sore loser.

Pony loved Soda, really, he was his brother after all, but, damn, he just wished Soda would shut up. Any other day, he would have loved to hear Soda's laugh, but the moment he woke up from his nap, he felt as if there were mini fireworks going off in his head. The loud laughing from the living room was not making it any better. He vaguely wondered if this was what a hangover felt like.

The headache had come in the form a steady, and pulsing pressure right above his temple. He tried to ignore it at first and trudge on with his day. But after an hour, it had gotten bad to the point that the words on the pages of his book were starting to blur and his brow was starting to collect a light sweat. That's when he decided to take a nap, hoping a nap would douse the thing.

Unfortunately, he had woken from his nap with something fierce, instead of a subsiding and possibly nonexistent headache. Soon after his headache had re-announced itself in an uglier form, Soda and Steve made themselves known.

"Was Soda and Steve always this loud?" Pony wondered as he massaged his forehead and silently made his way to the kitchen. He didn't even bother to check if Soda was preoccupied this time, as he shook out five aspirin and swallowed them dry. He almost choked, but he managed to get them all down the same. They needed to buy more aspirin. This bottle was almost empty.

"You're such a cheat, Soda. I ain't giving you my cigarettes."

His head was killing him.

"Stop being so soured, Steve. A game lost, is a game lost. You should learn to play better."

Pony moved quietly and stood between the junction of the corridor and the living room and just watched them with hollowed eyes.

"Cocky bastard." Steve leaned against his chair and took a swig of his beer. "I should just learn how to cheat better."

God, he wish he could mute them. Actually, he wish he could mute the whole world. His hand found its way back to his temple. Kneading, kneading, and kneading the skin between his finger and skull. There were so many fireworks in his head, and they weren't going away.

"That's the spirit." Soda laughed as he leaned down and tried to discreetly pull the card that he was hiding in his sock out.

Steve snorted. "You sound like Two-Bit.'

Pony wished they would leave for a drag race, or go hang out with some girls, just...just leave him alone to peace, and quiet.

"Speaking of Two-Bit, where is he?" Soda dropped some of his hidden cards into the pile with Steve being none the wiser. Pony would have smiled at that if his head wasn't trying to kill him.

Steve burped and scratched his leg. "He said something about meeting Dally at Bucks. Apparently, Two-Bit is - well, it seems Sleeping Beauty is finally awake."

Pony stiffened as Steve made eye contact with him, but he was quick enough to drop his hand from his forehead before Soda turned around in his chair to get a good look at him. He didn't want or need Soda coddling him right now. A hovering Soda was usually a talking Soda, even if it well intentioned. He just wanted peace and quiet.

He could actually see strings of white light skating across his vision from the headache now. Ha, it really was like seeing fireworks, just minus the sound, but plus the pain in his head.

Soda beamed at the sight of him. "Hey, Pony, did we wake you?"

"No," his voice was lower than normal, only slightly above a whisper. It hurt to hear even his own voice. He just wanted to mute the world, even himself now.

His older brother must have notice since Soda made a face."You okay, Pone?"

"Sure."

"Kid just woke up, Soda." Steve remarked as he gathered the cards around him and started to shuffle them for another round. He flipped over an ace and stuffed it in his jean pocket. "His brain isn't fully awake yet to be a smart ass."

Soda turned around and kicked Steve in the shin for that. "Shut up,"

Steve seemed amused.

"Wanna play cards with us, Pone?" Soda hooked a thumb at Steve. "Steve sucks."

"No," Pony leaned against the corridor wall, and Soda must have noticed because he beckoned him to come fully into the living room, but Pony remained rooted where he was. It was nicer here in the junction. It was darker here. Light was filtering in from living room window. He knew from past experience that sharp light only made his headaches worst.

He just wanted to curl up and sleep in a dark and muted room...or just world… or maybe outer space? The headache was making him feel kind of loopy.

He wanted to be left alone.

"It's Friday," Pony said monotonically, "Aren't you and Steve going to a drag race?"

He said a lot words. His head hurts worse now.

This wasn't a headache.

This is what people call migraines, right?

Aren't migraines supposed to a worser version of a headache? Because all those commercials on TV made migraines out to be the equivalent of being whacked by a bowling ball. His head sure felt like it was being set up to be hit. They had pills for those. Those migraine people must make a lot of money, because if Pony was experiencing migraines, then it hurt, and he wouldn't mind paying money to make it go away.

But they didn't have money. So, he had to shut his mouth and swallow the pain and hope that aspirin was enough.

"Yeah, we were wondering if you wanted to come this time."

Pony eyes trailed over to Steve, who was still shuffling and not daring to look at Pony. It must have been Steve's suggestion then. Steve was trying to be nice ever since the whole incident at Windrixville. A whole two weeks of the two youngest gang members pulling a mandatory houdini and suddenly Steve is Mr. Nice. Pony would laugh if he could. Why did Steve decide to be nice now? The irony. He was a pain even when he was trying to be nice to him.

Soda looked at him expectantly. Of course, Soda was probably the happiest at the thought of his best friend and his baby brother being buddy buddy. Pony didn't like to dash Soda's hopes like that, but he just couldn't. He could barely handle normal in door voices, much less loud, revving engines and shouting fanatics. And car exhaust. Those fumes would rattle his brain cells a good one.

"I'd rather stay home." Pony tried to smile, but it felt quite forced. It must have looked quite force, too, because the smile didn't seem to appease Soda none.

He couldn't tell if Soda was rocking in his chair, or if it was just his headache playing tricks on him. Those stupid fairy lights were still swirling around the room, too.

Soda's face fell, but before Soda could say anything, Steve spoke up, and quite awkwardly, too. "It's cool, you know, kid. If you wanna come...then come. We don't mind, and, uh, Soda said you can come...so...do you want to?"

Steve seemed to acquire a stuttering impediment whenever he tries to be nice. For a second, just for a fraction of a second, Pony's headache lessened. Suddenly, he smile came easier too.

"Thanks, but," Steve and Soda's face fell again. "I don't feel like going today."

"Why?" Soda pushed, gently.

He couldn't really say he had a terrible migraine. He didn't want to sound like a baby. He leaned more heavily against the wall. Why was this conversation so long? Maybe his head would hurt less if they all learned how to do sign language. But maybe all those dizzying hand movement would make his head hurt, too. It seemed like everything made his head hurt at the moment. Was this how a normal migraine felt like? This bad?

"Tired." and before they could ask, he added. "Track meet. Coach drilled us."

In reality, his most recent track meet was three days ago, and he definitely wasn't still feeling its effect, but they didn't need to know that. He was just glad that Soda didn't have his track schedule ironed into his brain like Darry did.

"Maybe next time then, Pony?" Soda asked hopefully.

"Sure."

"Darry will be home at seven. He's pulling an extra shift." Soda stood and clapped Pony on the back, hard. Pony internally winced as he could practically feel his brain rattle inside his skull. It was like his brain was being ping ponged around.

He wasn't sure if he had closed his eyes too long, or what, but for a second, his vision had went starkingly black. Pony blindly planted himself closer to the wall so he wouldn't topple over. His breath caught for a second, but then his sight quickly came back.

When his vision cleared, Soda was at the door and Steve was looking around for his jacket. There was just a sort of odd relief watching them getting ready to go, and leave him here in a silent house.

"See you later, Pony," Soda went out the door, tired of waiting for Steve to find his jacket.

Steve settled on one of Soda's jackets instead. Soda and Steve seemed to switch jackets all the time now, anyway. Steve paused next to him, and Pony couldn't help but internally sigh. Why were they talking so much today?

"Maybe next time then, kid?" Steve's voice was oddly soft and gruff at the same time. It was a weird mixture. Dally sometimes sounded like that when he was lecturing Johnny and him. Maybe the headache was warping up his hearing, too.

"Yeah, sure," Steve nodded, and turned to leave, and because he felt somewhat guilty for practically shitting on Steve's endeavour of being nice, he quietly added, "Thanks, Steve, for you know...that."

A ghost of smile appeared on Steve's face, and this time he added with more assurance, "Yeah, next time, kid."

Then the door slammed behind him and they were gone, and he was enveloped in silence.

As soon as the door slammed closed, his finger found its way back to his forehead. Massaging. It was as if lightning was crackling through his head and making his vision swim with bleary darkness and then blinding brightness.

It went from fireworks, to ping pongs, and now lightning. This migraine was horrible. What was wrong with his head?

He grappled back to his room and closed the door to his room behind him and pulled his curtain tightly together. He didn't want any light seeping through.

Pony collapsed back on his pillow, his vision swimming and his head still pounding. He felt oddly cold, even though he was sweating earlier.

It was just a migraine.

People get those all the time.

It was normal.

But even when he told himself that this pain, this migraine, was normal, he couldn't help but hear Steve's confident words echoing in his pained head.

 _Yeah, next time, kid._

Rolling onto his slide, he tried to fall asleep. But his depraved and torturous mind wouldn't let him sleep, but instead it kept on echoing a question that made his stomach churn.

Is there going to be a next time?

* * *

A/N: Hi,fellow readers! So I wrote the first half of this chapter (before the line break), over a month ago, but I didn't post it since it was too short. Yesterday, it rained. And I say, rainy weather really does good things to my muse. I just love to read and write when it rains. Thus, I wrote the rest of this chapter yesterday during the storm. The second half of the chapter was easier to crank out, but I don't know if I like it or not. I had a good feeling about it when I wrote it, but then I read it this morning, and I don't know. Sorry if there was little to no action in this chapter. I actually updated a lot faster than I usually do, because I'm terrible when it comes to updating. So, yayyy for rain!

Thank you so, so, so much for all the lovely reviews, follows, and favorites! I really love them and I always read my reviews over and over again. I know some of them verbatim, even. There is still some conflict on whether or not Pony will survive this or not. And one guest made a very brilliant deduction (It's going to be hush hush for now, though ^^)!

Pony is starting to have doubts, but he's still in denial land, too.

What do you think? You like? You hate? Want to vomit?

Anyway, please R&R. Reviews inspire me and make me happy. No flames, please. Constructive criticism is welcomed.

Reviews before this posted chapter: 24

(My goal is to have this number always go up after every posted chapter. So, help me bring it up. ^^)

8.18.17


	3. Chapter 3 Just Maybe

Chapter 3. _Just Maybe_

He felt Darry before he heard him.

Darry's broad, calloused hands were gripping his shoulder while the weight of his knee made the bed dip.

"Pony." His grip strengthened a fraction, before the force of his shakes became stronger and the urgency of his voice deepened noticeably. "Ponyboy."

Ponyboy groaned.

"Wake up. Are you alright?"

Pony's eyes squinted open. "Darry?"

"Yeah, kiddo." Darry's grip moved from his shoulder to the small of his brother's back as he helped him sit up. Pony already felt the weight of Darry's gaze checking him over, and he couldn't help but squirm slightly. "You were sleeping like the dead."

"What time is it?" He rubbed the heel of his palm into his eyes. His migraine, he noticed, was gone.

"Nine-thirty." Darry answered distractedly as he pushed back Pony's hair to feel his forehead. "You don't feel hot."

"That's because I'm not sick." He looked past Darry, and saw that a soft light from the kitchen was filtering into the hallway. Pony groaned again. It was his turn to make dinner, but he slept the whole day away. "Darry, I forgot to make dinner."

"It's fine. I handled it." Darry stood up, and it was then that Pony noticed that Darry was dressed in regular clothes, instead of his work clothes. Darry must have gotten home hours ago. No wonder why he was worried. Pony didn't stir once in his sleep. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Pony yawned into his hand. He tugged on his shirt, feeling oddly cold, but stopped when Darry looked at him. "Just tired."

Darry nodded at that, deciding to just believe him. "Come eat."

Pony trailed after Darry into the kitchen, where a weird aroma was drifting and invading his nose. "Where's Soda?"

"Went to go meet Dally and Two-Bit at Bucks with Steve."

Pony wrinkled his nose as he took a seat at the dinner table. "You never let me go to Bucks."

"Soda's older." Darry answered easily as he scooped some concoction of vegetable soup into a bowl.

"Soda will always be older." Pony grumbled.

Darry suppressed a grin at that as he turned away from the stove and shoved the bowl of food under his nose. "As long as you know that, kiddo. Eat."

"I'm not even that young anymore." Pony dipped his spoon into the soup with disinterest, and watched the soup engulf it. "Curly goes all the time."

"Curly ain't my kid brother." Darry dumped himself into the seat across from Pony and inhaled a good portion of the soup. Pony internally cringed at the sight. He wasn't feeling too hungry. "You're too young."

"You think I'm too young for a lot of things, apparently."

Darry grinned, and Pony realized that Darry was in a pretty good mood today. He must have been happy with that extra-shift at work today. If he was in the mood that he was in earlier this morning, Darry would have already snapped at him for being mouthy.

"Because you are." Darry lightly kicked Pony's feet under the table. "Eat, Pony."

Pony smiled slightly at the action.

It was one of those rare moments, where Darry felt like that older football brother of his instead of that stern guardian who's wrought with worry about bills and social services.

He took his submerged spoon out and ate, silently forcing himself to swallow it, before lightly kicking Darry back.

Darry laughed.

For a moment, life seemed so normal

* * *

"You okay, man?" Johnny fingers brushed his shoulders as Pony blinked up at him.

Pony closed the book that was in his hand and settled it on his lap. His mind felt hazy, like he had just woken up from a slumber. This haziness, seemed to be a very common occurrence lately. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've been on the same page for the past five minutes."

"I was just thinking."

Johnny just nodded before sliding down from the couch and settling back to his position in front of the coffee table where his math book was open. "About?"

Pony sighed as he rubbed his temples. "I don't even remember."

Johnny laughed.

It was one of those lazy, slow Saturdays where they were bored out of their mind and had exhausted all the TV channels. His brothers were at work and there were no movies worth sneaking into. Two-Bit was probably hanging out with a blond he couldn't even remember the name of. Pony had already finished all of his homework while Johnny just had to finish his day had been a little too academically productive.

Pony smiled slightly at that. "Where's Dally?"

Johnny tapped his pencil along his tattered jeans. "At Buck's. Doing some kind of rodeo or something."

After a beat of silence, Pony whimsically asked, "Should we go?"

Johnny stopped fidgeting with his calculator to look up at him with a semblance of surprise. "To the rodeo?"

"Yeah, we haven't been in awhile."

Rodeos were mostly Soda's things. It was rowdy, boisterous, and people infested which were all attributes that clubby Soda liked, but not something that the two youngest, and introverted members of the gangs were all that keen too.

"Oh..." Johnny trailed off as he looked at the math problem that he had been laboring on for the past seven minutes before turning back to Pony's bored face then to the clock on the wall then back to his troublesome math book. It wasn't a hard decision. Johnny closed his book with a thud. "Sure, why not?"

Within thirty minutes, they were at the entrance of the rodeo looking like lost lambs.

"Which stable is Dally working at?" Pony asked, as he and Johnny shuffled out of the way of a huge crowd of jockeys.

Johnny shrugged besides him. "I'm not sure."

They've only been here a handful of times, and all those times one of the gang members were there to guide them to the stalls where one of them was playing at. They started walking toward several stalls that lined the left side of the arena.

Johnny wrinkled his nose. "I don't remember it smelling this bad."

Horse feces was in the air. The odor was only strengthened with the baking heat of the day. Maybe they shouldn't have come today. He already felt his body rejecting the loud noises in the form of a headache and the smell of manure everywhere was making him nauseous. His shirt was starting to become sticky with all his sweat.

It was odd. He didn't ever remember feeling this bad when he went to the rodeo before.

After ten minutes of walking aimlessly around looking for Dally, Pony was about to suggest heading back home. He wouldn't have changed his mind so easily since he was the one who suggested it, but he wasn't feeling too hot.

But before he could open his mouth, Johnny opened his first. Johnny elbowed his arm, his voice obviously happy. "There's Dally."

Pony followed Johnny's line of vision and saw Dally saddling a horse before turning around to say something to another rider.

Johnny's pace started to increase, and Pony struggled to keep up. He felt exhausted for some reason and was having trouble keeping one foot in front of the other in a coordinated manner.

"Dally," Johnny called.

"What are you doing here?" Dally asked once they were in talking distance. Pony was relieved that the open stall had some shade.

"We came to watch you," Pony supplied airly as he leaned against the post the horse was tied to. Pony had run for track in hotter weather than this, and was fine. Yet his limbs felt so weak today.

Dally looked at Pony oddly before yanking a coke bottle from the rider he was talking too earlier and throwing it to Pony. Pony barely caught it. The guy was obviously peeved at the action, but since it was Dallas that was doing it, he kept quiet.

"Drink." Dally said as he looked between the two. "Did you two walk here? You look like hell, Pony."

Pony took a swig of the coke before passing it to Johnny. "Thanks."

"Darry know that you guys are here?" Dally kept glancing at him which made Pony slightly uncomfortable. Pony's skin must have looked as hot as he felt. Sweat was running down his body in rivers.

Pony moved behind the horse in hopes that Dally would stop staring at him.

"No," Pony answered as he started to pet the horse. The horse's own body felt cooler than his. "We're just watching anyway, not riding."

Johnny was saying something to Dally when Pony started to feel vertigo hit him. Instinctively, Pony clung to the horse's mane while his body leaned on it for balance. His other hand wrapped around the horse's neck. He legs were going slack underneath him. It was as if they were going numb.

"When you riding, Dally?"

The horse started to move restlessly, obviously not liking the tight hold Pony had on it. Pony tried to ease off his weight, but his legs were feeling too weak to even hold himself up.

"Next round. Buck said that a lot of money was riding on this so I have to place -"

Thud.

Johnny and Dally immediately looked at the source of the sound, surprised.

"What the hell, Pony?" Dally walked over to him, where he was currently sitting on the ground, rubbing his behind. Pony gave the older greaser an embarrassed smile. Dally grabbed the horse, yanking on its reigns hard to calm it down and pushing it to another post so it won't accidentally step on the younger greaser on the floor.

"Sorry," Pony rubbed his legs, trying to get feeling in them. His legs had never felt like they would be unable to support him like it just did, not even after a grueling track meet. To an extent, it felt as if his legs were losing sensation in them, but that odd prickly sensation wasn't there. "My legs fell asleep, I think."

Dally gave him an odd look. "While you were standing?"

Pony shrugged as Johnny squatted next to him. Pony smacked his legs a few more times, trying to get feeling in them. After a moment, that familiar prickly sensation that he would always feel after his legs woke up from being numb appeared. Pony released a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"You okay, Pony?" Johnny asked softly beside him.

"Yeah," He felt his vision blur for a second as he nodded. "I'm fine. It fell asleep."

Pony forced a laugh, trying to ease the tension, and Johnny tried to smile too, but he could still see the worry lingering in those brown eyes.

Johnny stood and for a second Pony swore he thought he saw two Johnny standing before him. Pony swallowed thickly, his throat feeling dry.

"You going to sit there all day, kid?" Dally adjusted the straps on the horse again and Pony wondered briefly if he had accidentally loosened them when he had fallen earlier. Dally briefly looked at the clock. It was almost time for the rodeo to start. "Do you know how much horse shit is on that floor?"

"Hmmm," Pony stretched his legs forward and inward again, happy that they were working like they were supposed to. His legs seemed perfectly fine now. Maybe they really did fall asleep then.

Johnny leaned down and offered his hand, giving him an expectant look.

He squinted at his best friend's hand, confused as to why Johnny's hand was suddenly doubling and swaying so much. Hesitantly, he reached out to the space where he thought Johnny's hand was but only met air. He tried again, and again, was met with air.

Johnny frowned as he gripped Pony's wrist instead, but he didn't pull him to his feet. "Pony, what -"

Having seen this, Dally stalked over to them, and roughly dragged Pony onto his feet from his underarms. "What the hell, kid? You sick?"

Pony staggered to his feet. The sudden movement was making him see double everywhere. "Just a little dizzy."

Dally reached up and felt his neck. "Your skin is hot."

Dally turned around and pulled out a bottle of water before shoving it into Pony's chest. "Here, drink this. All this heat is making you dehydrated and seeing shit."

"Winston!" Another rider ran up and unposted Dally's horse, giving him an irritated look. "Que up, man. It's almost your turn."

"Yeah, yeah." Dally called halfheartedly, before turning his attention back to Pony to give him another overview before holding his hand up. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Pony laughed. "Three."

"Winston!"

"Fuck, I heard you, Chavez. Cool it." Dally barked. Dallas pulled out another water and handed it to Johnny before he looked between the two of them. "Drink your water. I'm not going to deal with heat stroke, got it?"

Before they could answer, Dally was leaving, already cursing the other rider for yelling his name again.

Johnny had suggested they go home since Pony didn't seem to feel well, but Pony insisted they stay. If they had come all this way, it would be a shame to not at least watch Dally ride. Asides from that, Pony just wanted to sit down. The walk here had tired him out more than it should have.

But as the rodeo dragged on, Pony had wished that he had taken Johnny's offer to go home instead of staying. He felt so hot, and could literally feel his sweat fall down his back in rivets, only to soak into his pants.

Why was he sweating so much?

He chanced a glance at Johnny, who looked perfectly fine with only a few beads of sweat here and there. Johnny's eyes were shining at Dally entered the arena with his horse and he even sat up taller. Pony couldn't find the energy to summon the interest.

Pony sipped his water, his stomach suddenly protesting and churning heavily.

He tried to ignore it. Just like how he was trying to ignore how much his hands were shaking, or ignore how his headache was suddenly here again, or the awful smell that wafted through the air and mingled with the audience's scream, or all the body heat that was drowning him and cooking his insides.

He suddenly felt very nauseous.

"Johnny," he barely managed above whisper.

Johnny didn't hear him. He was too busy cheering along with the crowd as Dallas managed to place second with his horse.

"Johnny," he whispered again.

Only when he dropped his half filled water bottle did Johnny notice him. Johnny's face immediately straightened at the sight of Pony. "Pony, you okay?"

Johnny leaned in to get a better look at him, but, before he knew it, Pony was pushing him away and running through the crowd faster than he thought possible. Based on how Pony was holding his mouth before he bolted, Johnny already knew what to expect when he followed after his friend.

When he found him, Pony was retching quiet violently into a trash can that just had to be next to a manure bin. Hesitantly, Johnny came up to him and rubbed his back in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

"You okay, Pony?" He felt like he was asking that question a lot lately.

Pony nodded shakily, still trying to catch his breath. Johnny bit his lip, he could see the unshedded tears in the young greaser's eyes. "What happened?"

"Don't know." Pony gagged, before he started to throw up again.

"I'll go get Dally," Johnny wasn't sure if Pony could hear him over his hurling, so he gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he ran off to find the older greaser.

Dally sure wasn't slow to reach the sick greaser's side once Johnny told him the situation. Dally patted the young greaser's back firmly as he hurled again.

"Was it the food?" He asked distractedly.

Johnny shook his head as he looked at Pony worriedly. That was a lot of vomit. "We didn't buy any food."

Pony coughed, and tried to spit out the remaining remnants of vomit in his mouth as he hovered over the trashcan tiredly.

"You done?" Dally asked, as he handed him some water to rinse his mouth.

"I think," Pony mumbled as he took some water and spit it out quickly. Disgusting. He felt his legs shaking beneath him, and Dally must have noticed too, because he forced him to sit. He kicked the trashcan between his legs.

"Man, you sure know how to pick places to vomit, kid," Dally sank down next to him, his nose wrinkling at the smell. Johnny joined them on the dirt flirt too as they waited to see if Pony's stomach decided it wasn't done after all. "Of all the places, you just had to vomit next to the one next to the manure bin. Who wouldn't want to vomit at the sight of it?"

Pony chuckled weakly as he closed his eyes."It was the closest one,"

He could hear Dally shifting beside him, before he felt his hand on his forehead which was then immediately followed by cursing. "You're hot. You must have got a heat stroke."

"Johnny, give me that," Johnny handed Dally the water bottle as Dally pulled out a rag from his back pocket. Pony watched wearily as Dally drenched the rag with water before hanging it around Pony's neck. Pony flinched at how cold the water felt. "Stupid kid, I told you to drink your damn water, didn't I?"

"His face is really red, Dal," Johnny remarked as Dallas lit a cigarette. Pony found the smell somewhat calming.

"Of course it is," Dallas sighed as he stood and looked at them. After a good fifteen minute, he said, "Come on, let's go home."

Johnny knelt next to Pony and dragged his arm around his shoulder. Johnny tottered with Pony's weight, as Pony wasn't really supporting himself well. Pony felt embarrassed at how weak he felt. Is this what a heat stroke did to you?

Dallas watched them struggle for a few minute before rolling his eyes and flicking his half finished cigarette into the manure.

"Damn, kids," Before Pony knew what was going on, Dallas had managed to grab his arm and pull him onto his back. Pony instantly tensed as Dallas started to walk toward the exit, with him on his back. Pony felt absolutely mortified. When was the last time someone had given him a piggyback? At least when he was carried before, he was unconscious. He was too conscious for this. "It's going to take forever to get home with you and Johnny walking like that," Dally groused.

Dally bounced him, trying to adjust his hold, and Pony instinctively tightened his hold around the older greaser's neck.

"You feeling better, Pony?" Johnny walked beside Dally, holding their half filled water bottles tight against his chest.

"Yeah," He mumbled, still too embarrassed to talk. Who would have thought that Dallas Winston would carry him so willingly like this.

"Don't vomit on me."

"Sure," Dally didn't bat an eye as Pony leaned his head in the crook of the older greaser's neck. Dally's skin felt so much cooler than his.

The sun was starting to go down, taking its baking rays of heat with it. Pony was grateful for that, and he realized that his headache was decreasing as well. He could feel himself feeling sleepy from Dallas' stride.

"I didn't invite you to the rodeo." Dally broke through his train of thoughts.

Pony watched the shadows of their walking silhouette bob up and down, but eventually closed his eyes from how dizzy he felt from staring at it. Was it the heat stroke that caused him to feel this dizzy?

"I invited myself." Pony mumbled, feeling dazed.

Why did he feel like something was off with him lately? Like that horrible headache, this dizziness, those gaps in his memories, this heatstroke. He never had a heatstroke before, never in track when the sun practically made the cement sizzle and burn through the soles of their shoes.

"Today is not even that hot yet you got a heat stroke."

He had convinced himself that he was okay when Steve and Two-Bit had cleaned up his bloody head ...

"It was hot, Dally," Johnny tried to defend. Johnny reached up and pulled the rag around Pony neck away and drenched it with more water before wrapping it around him again. "At least it was a minor heat stroke."

And convinced himself again when he broke those dishes in the kitchen.

"Darry won't be too happy." Pony groaned slightly at the thought of his strict older brother. He didn't even tell Darry that he was going to the rodeo today.

But maybe he wasn't okay.

Unconsciously, Pony tightened his hold around the older greaser as uncertainty grew throughout his body. If Dallas noticed the action, he didn't say anything.

"Soda might be home," Johnny tried to cheer him up. The silent 'he will defend you if Darry yells too much' was not missed.

Maybe…just maybe something _was_ wrong.

"Shit," Dally cursed as he easily bounced Pony higher on his back, making Pony feel oddly small. "I forgot to get Buck's money for the rodeo."

Johnny laughed.

And Pony smiled.

But he felt scared.

* * *

A/N: Hello! I'm sorry that it's been so long since I've last updated. You know the reason - school, life, life, life, and school.

Thank you so, so, so much for all the lovely reviews, follows, and favorites!

Before winter break ends and I have to go back to school, I forcefully sat myself down and finished writing this chapter. If the writing is awkward, it's most likely because I wrote the first part in 2017 and early 2018. The part where Pony falls during the rodeo is what I wrote today. So, I'm sorry if you guys have to endure my awkward writing. I published this the same day to prevent myself from backing out on posting it. Since I posted it the same day I wrote it, I might make minor changes here and there later.

Anyway, this is my belated New Year's gift to you guys (even if it's is lacking, it's the thought that counts, right? ^^). Stay happy and well, guys. I love all of you for the great support that you give me and my stories.

So, does this chapter confuse you? Are you guys thinking that Pony might have some kind of other illness? Don't worry a seizure will come, but I'm a slow build writer.

What do you think? You like? You hate? Want to vomit?

Anyway, please R&R. Reviews inspire me and make me happy. No flames, please. Constructive criticism is welcomed.

Reviews before this posted chapter: 49

(My goal is to always have this number go up after every posted chapter. Help me bring it up, please?)

1.11.19


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